


Scavenge Team

by SalazarTipton



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alien Powers, Identity Reveal, M/M, One Shot, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/pseuds/SalazarTipton
Summary: Michael fell to his knees. He figured he feel shock or grief or horror, but nothing like that came. No, Michael was forced down by a rush coursing through the chaos in his mind and power thrumming in his veins. It took some time to piece things together, but he, Max, and Isobel all came to the same conclusion: killing made them stronger.





	Scavenge Team

**Author's Note:**

> written for eggsy <3

Alex peers out the grimy window out into the junkyard and curses. “We gotta get moving. It’s starting to get crowded out there.”

Michael nods at him before ripping the mattress of his bed. Alex glances over to see what he’s doing and his eyebrows shoot up. All this time under that tiny, uncomfortable bed there’s been a secret compartment? Michael quickly lifts the panel and takes out a shotgun and a bag full of bottles. It’s too opaque to see what’s in them, but before Alex can ask what they are, the trailer rocks. 

“Shit,” Michael mutters. He presses up against Alex for a moment to look outside. He hands off the shotgun to Alex. “I’m guessing you’re a better shot than I am,” is his only explanation. He ducks back down to grab a satchel full of shells and shoves them at Alex too. 

Alex quickly opens the gun and slides two shells in. He lifts the gun to his shoulder a few times, getting used to the weight and positioning. Bruising his shoulder with poor form won’t do him any good right now. Michael watches him with a smirk. He picks up his pistol off the counter, tucking it into his waistband and starts shoving any essentials he can think of into his duffel. It’s not like they’ll be back here any time soon...or maybe ever. 

“Do these windows open?” Alex asks him when the trailer gets rocked for a second time. Michael reaches over him to the rusted latch (that looks like something you’d find on a sailboat, not in a trailer, Alex thinks to himself. Perks of living in a salvage yard...) loosening it mostly with his powers, but from what Alex can see he’s just twisting the screws with his hand. 

“Alright, when you’re ready I’ll blow away the one at the door. Then we make a break for it. The sound is only going to attract more, so we better move fast.”

Michael zips up his bag and pulls the tactical knife out of the sheath on his belt. “Ready when you are, darling.”

Alex nudges the window open and pulls the shotgun up into the pocket of his shoulder. He nods at Michael and steadies his breath.  _ Bang! _ The zombie’s head nearly liquefies and its body is blown away from the steps from the momentum of the close range. Michael swings the door open. Alex follows him out with his head on swivel making sure none of them get too close. The sound did get the attention of the ones wandering around the junkyard, but the piles of scrap are working well enough as barriers to slow them down. 

Michael watches behind them as they make their way to the truck. The sound of Alex’s gun going off doesn’t even make him flinch, but it does pull his attention from covering their six. Around the truck there are five zombies headed right for them. 

Alex opens the gun to reload. His hands move quickly, getting the fresh shells out of the bag, sliding them into place, and snapping the shotgun closed in easy, practiced movements. When they’re ten feet from the truck, two more zombies are down. 

“Shit,” Michael mutters under his breath. The sound of the shots alerted more of them to their location. A few are coming up behind them. “Take the keys.” Before Alex can argue, Michael tucks the keys to the truck into his back pocket and heads for the newcomers. 

“Dammit, Guerin! What happened to not splitting up?”

The closest zombie used to be one of the other mechanics here. He and Michael didn’t necessarily get along, but they rarely working on the same projects together, so they hadn’t butted heads for a decent six months. And now Michael gets to take a knife to his neck. He wishes this was out of the ordinary.

All things considered, the actual freaking zombie apocalypse has its perks. Michael and his siblings haven’t been all that worried about being found out as aliens since there’s been no government contact after the base was taken over. Everyone’s had enough to worry about so the odd zombie’s head seemingly being ripped off by nothing goes unnoticed. Sure, the town is a wreck, people they’ve known their whole lives since the pods are dead or dead walking. But all this has given Michael more answers about himself and what they are than his years of studying broken, dusty alien tech. 

The first zombie Michael killed gave him a revelation. It had been Mr. Sanders outside his door in the middle of the night. Michael opened up when he heard his moans, figuring the man was going over the books drunk again and couldn’t get the numbers to make sense. To his bewilderment though, Sanders lurched for him with his mouth wide as if to bite him. He struggled to keep him off without using his powers. When he felt teeth break skin, he finally let loose, sending his boss flying into a pile of scraps. A piece of rebar made its way through his skull. Michael fell to his knees. He figured he feel shock or grief or horror, but nothing like that came. No, Michael was forced down by a rush coursing through the chaos in his mind and power thrumming in his veins. 

It took some time to piece things together, but he, Max, and Isobel all came to the same conclusion: killing made them stronger. 

He staggers away from his former coworker with a little more slime and guts on him than he had before, but that’s not saying much. It’s been a week since either of them have seen hot water. There’s only so much sponge baths can do, but living in a desert, there’s no point in wasting gallons of water on a decent bath. 

Michael turns to check on Alex, breathing a sigh of relief when he spots him surrounded by bodies and reaching for the driver’s side door. 

“Ah!” Michael yelps when something latches onto his arm. He lashes back with his knife without a second thought. He takes the fucker down quick and rushes to the truck. She purrs into life when he’s just a few feet away. 

“Don’t you ever pull that shit again,” Alex all but orders when he climbs into the cab.

“If you don’t trust me to hold my own, why did you pick me to buddy up with to get supplies, huh?”

Michael doesn’t want to fight with Alex, but his discomfort and the new thrum on power under his skin are getting the better of his mood. He’s gross, hot and his arm is stinging. He doesn’t expect an answer from him. As Alex puts the truck into drive, Michael picks the shotgun up off of the dashboard and checks the safety. 

The road back to the Wild Pony isn’t a long one, but the abandoned cars on the road make it arduous. Alex drives around them, making sure to avoid the debris that could damage the tires.

“Look, Guerin, I know you’re capable of defending yourself, but that doesn’t mean you can run off taking risks like that!”

“Not all of us have been trained in risk assessment, Private. And it worked? We’re both fine and almost back to the others. I don’t get why you’re freaking out right now,” Michael says as he looks out the window, watching out for zombies.

“Don’t you?” Alex scoffs. “We’ve never actually said it, but I know damn well you know how I feel about you. If I lost you out there because of some stupid--”

“Hey,” Michael whispers, cutting him off with a hand reaching over to squeeze his knee. “I-I get it. And you gotta know it’s the same for me...so when I see a way I can protect you, I’m going to take it.”

Alex puts his hand over Michael’s returning his reassuring touch, being sure not to squeeze his bad fingers too much. 

The silence for the last few blocks of the ride is lighter. Since this disaster started, they haven’t brought up their past or their feelings for each other once. They still have a lot they need to say to each other, but it can wait...at least until Michael can get the zombie juices out of his hair. 

Alex lets the truck crawl to a stop when the Wild Pony’s parking lot comes into view. When they left that morning to head out for supplies, there’d been the lone zombie or two wandering around, but nothing like this. 

“How the fuck did a horde wind up here?” Michael muses out loud. 

“Better question: how are we going to get past it without turning its attention to the bar?” Alex countered. Alex works the radio off of his hip. 

“You guys seeing this?” he asks into the mic. He’s long since given up on radio etiquette since only Max and Cam out of the group even know the basics and everyone else refuses to follow simple instructions. 

_ “Yup, seeing it just fine. Thanks for the concern about my eyesight.” _ Isobel’s voice rings through the static.  _ “You have Michael with you?” _

Alex hands off the radio. 

“I’m fine, Iz. And I’ve got the goods. You guys have any plans about the horde?” Michael looks over to Alex while they wait for a reply. 

_ “Come around the back. It looks clear out here; just the dumpsters blocking the path from the alley,” _ Max responds. 

“Alright. Be there soon.” Michael 

They creep forward down the road, hoping to stay out of the horde’s line of sight. They make it past the Pony and Alex’s turns onto the cross street and slows to a stop beside barricaded alley. Several dumpsters were jammed into place to block it off from enemies of all states of life and death (the other survivors aren’t any nicer than the zombies). 

“I’ll see how loose it is. Stay here and keep a lookout. There are probably a lot more of them around,” Alex says, opening his door. 

“I’ve got your back,” Michael says. 

He hikes up the shotgun and checks the chamber. Alex steps down out of the truck and turns his attention to the dumpsters. He unlocks the wheels of one and manages to shimmy it enough for enough space to get behind it and push. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t realize one person shouldn’t be able to move a huge dumpster on their own, especially when it took three of them to put them there in the first place. He also didn’t notice Michael’s focused centered on him instead of keeping watch. It only takes about five minutes of work for him to push it out of the way far enough to fit the truck past. 

He looks back at the sound of Michael closing his gun and notices the bite mark on his shoulder. Seeing it, his heart feels like it just shattered in his chest. It isn’t oozing like the other’s he’s seen over the past few weeks (not yet, he thinks). It’s bleeding a bit and slightly red around the edges, but the way Michael’s moving Alex doesn’t think he knows. He leans towards him, hand outstretched. 

“Guerin, is that...”

Michael shrugs and points the barrel of his gun out the window. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. The virus only affects humans.” 

Down the road from where they came, the horde is starting to turn around the corner and it looks like they spotted them and the truck. Alex dives into the driver’s seat and throws it into reverse. 

“And what the hell does that make you?” he asks. A smirk quirks up the side of Michael’s mouth. 

“An alien,” he says before pulling the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! i'd love to hear from you in the comments. find me on [tumblr](http://creaturejaskier.tumblr.com)


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